


Opportunity

by rarepairegret



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Possible Stockholm Syndrome, Sith Shenanigans, Terrorism, Time Travel, Yoda bashing, Yoda is a Troll, bildungsroman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairegret/pseuds/rarepairegret
Summary: Count Dooku travels back in time to six years before the death of Qui-Gon Jinn. He is given the opportunity to avert the Clone Wars, save the lives of his padawan and countless others, and destroy his rival Sith. Instead, he kidnaps Komari Vosa.





	1. Abduction

Komari Vosa stared down at the bowl of noodles in front of her and steadfastly avoided looking at the man sitting across from her. It was the best thing she’d had to eat in almost a year, and she wasn't hungry. Her eyes flicked forward to her Master's bowl. It was even more untouched than hers, his chopsticks sitting still on the table, hers swirling the off-white noodles in their broth.

 

He’d let her pick the restaurant, and they were several levels lower on Coruscant than he preferred to go. Like most of her preferred locations, the tiny noodle shop was outside of his tastes. The shop was quiet enough to talk about their recent mission, but Komari continued to avoid her Master’s gaze, and he reciprocated to gesture. They didn’t need to talk about their mission, well, they did need to talk about it, but they _could_ talk about anything. The sudden disappearance of the Bando Gora Cult, for example, or trade tariffs on products from the Outer Rim. She felt like Atlas, holding up her sky, desperately trying to keep her teacher on the pedestal she’d kept him on for years.

 

Bright, white lighting shone down on their faces and made the darkness outside absolutely opaque, as though they were in one of their usual ships looking out at the void instead of in a restaurant in Coruscant’s seedy underbelly. Their Jedi robes marked them apart from the few other diners, a Twi’lek couple and a Besalisk in a mechanic’s uniform, the low number of which Komari attributed to the late hour, and her Master to the food. A single Twi’lek employee was operating the shop’s credit machine. The menu was mounted on the wall in Ryl and Basic behind him.

 

The silence had continued for another five minutes when the hand of a fat Twi’lek woman materialized on Komari’s shoulder, “Komari! You’ve been gone for so long! We were beginning to lose our reputation as a Jedi-frequented establishment!” The woman winked kindly.

 

Komari flinched and poorly managed to plaster a smile onto her face. The proprietress removed her hand.

 

“Komari,” the woman frowned, “you’ve gotten skinny…” she turned to the man, her smile restored and decidedly unfriendly, “and who might you be?”

 

Dooku’s voice was low and sonorous, “Master Yan Dooku of the Jedi Order, and what is your name, madam?”

 

Komari kept her eyes fixed on the Twi’lek’s face, so she did not miss when the woman’s eyes flicked to her full bowl.

 

“My name,” Komari winced slightly at the bite in the words, “is Musrojasor'zotu.”

 

Thick green arms were crossed over a thicker chest, and the proprietress glared only slightly downwards at the experienced Jedi Master. Finally, Komari looked at her Master. He looked fine, and rage bubbled up inside her. He felt it through their bond, and she felt his corresponding surprise before it was released into the force.

 

Dooku smiled politely and glanced at the woman’s oddly sharp-looking nails, “A pleasure.”

 

The woman turned back towards Komari and her cold noodles. “I take it you’ll be needing a jug,” she said blandly.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Komari said, and a genuine smile appeared on her green face.

 

“You’re always so sweet,” she said and patted Komari lightly on the hand. Komari shifted in her seat, and the woman left to get the colossal to-go jugs typical of the establishment.

 

“You come here often?”

 

Knowing without looking that her Master was frowning, she answered: “Yes, Master.”

 

“You should eat more at the temple commissary when we are on Coruscant. You need to save your stipend. You never know what could happen.”

 

Usually Komari hung onto her Master’s words, taking to heart his advice and criticisms, but at that moment, all she felt was annoyed.

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

Her master spent their rare moments at the temple with his friends, away from her. She didn’t mind, but it did leave her to her own devices, and she didn’t get along with the other Padawan, even Obi-Wan Kenobi. She’d attempted to reach out to him once by asking him to spar with her, and she’d knocked him on his ass in one of the smaller training halls. She’d tried to tell him how she got under his guard so he could correct it, but he’d just stared at her.

 

“I thought you said you wanted to spar,” he’d said, not once blinking.

 

Komari, knowing that she’d made a mistake but having no idea what it was or what to do about it, stared back. Obi-Wan got up and left, and Komari was eternally grateful that the hall had been empty. She did not try to reach out to him again.

 

Komari used her chopsticks to pluck a piece of cold, chewy nerf meat from her bowl. It felt disgusting in her mouth, but she hacked it down. She knew that tomorrow, when she reheated the soup, it would taste slightly different than if she’d eaten it warm that day.

 

Two jugs thudded down onto their table, and Komari smiled at the Twi’lek woman, who smiled softly back and went to return to the kitchens. She and her Master poured their soup into the jugs, and Komari had the sneaking suspicion that what he had ordered- _and not tried,_ she thought angrily-would be thrust upon her to eat sometime over the next few days.

 

“Master, I would like to speak with the proprietress, if that’s alright?”

 

Dooku sighed, “Go ahead.”

 

Komari left him and their jugs alone at the table, and went back into the kitchen, where she navigated her way past fryers and boilers and friendly employees. She reached the office at the back of the room and paused in the doorway.

 

“Hi, Miss Roja,” she said to the green Twi’lek woman doing paperwork behind a cheap, low desk in a purple-upholstered chair. A wide window showed a Coruscanti valley of durasteel, with light traffic and low lighting, courtesy of the late hour and the lower level. A black door was embedded in the wall behind the desk.

 

“Please, Komari, come in,” she said and gestured towards the chair across from her.

 

Komari sat down on the edge of the seat, her posture ramrod straight.

 

_Eye contact,_ she reminded herself, _but not too much._

 

“How-how are you?”

 

Miss Roja smiled, “I’m wonderful. How are you, Komari?”

 

“I’m okay,” Komari paused, “Is business doing well?”

 

“It’s the same as ever, my dear.”

 

“That’s… good?”

 

The woman laughed, and Komari counted that as a point in her favor.

 

“Actually,” Miss Roja said, “a few days ago we were-”

 

The window shattered, and Komari was flung outside into the roaring wind. She distantly heard screaming from inside the office and felt a pinch in her neck. She righted herself, reached out and grabbed the side of the building, and pulled the empty tranquilizer dart from her neck. She looked down, and she saw a nondescript speeder hovering mere feet below her, beyond that, the street lights disappeared into the darkness of even deeper levels. She looked up, dizzied, and began to climb.

 

She felt an arm snake around her waist and a warm body pull her close. She lashed out with an elbow and landed a solid hit, hearing a quiet exhale of breath from her attacker, she attempted to reach out to her Master through their bond and felt nothing. For the first time in the encounter, she felt afraid. She felt her consciousness slipping but powered onward, holding on to the wall while going for her lightsaber… which wasn’t on her belt. She tore herself from the attacker’s grasp and spun around, thanking the grueling arm exercises she’d put herself through, and came face-to-face with a hooded figure.

 

She kicked out and the attacker’s head lifted, and she saw an old, familiar face with sickly yellow eyes. The horror she felt then was immobilizing, and the wind screaming around them nearly tore her from the outcropping she clung to. The man knocked her off the wall and into the speeder below, where she lay in drugged shock. The abomination leaned over her and almost gently adjusted her into a seat, his eyes boring into hers. She felt for her connection to her Master, blocked, but still there, and pushed. She used her terror, her horror and pressed violently against the block in her mind, seeing only yellow eyes as she fell into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Komari woke to the familiar hum of a ship in hyperspace against her back. She was nested in a bunk up against a wall with a blanket draped over her and her head on a pillow. Her limbs felt heavy and her mouth was dry. She wondered when she and her master were going to make planetfall. Then she remembered. She did not move. Her breathing did not change. Her connection to the Force felt weak.

 

“I expected you to wake sooner,” her Master’s voice said.

 

She opened her eyes to her Master’s form and a stranger’s eyes. She threw off the blankets and attempted to surge to her feet, but her legs refused to support her weight and she collapsed onto the dark brown floor, landing on her side, from where she saw her captor rise from a chair he had been sitting in. The blue blanket that had been draped across him was folded neatly and placed on the red stuffed chair. She could see a closed doorway behind him, a warm golden light illuminated the room from behind her, and there was a small round table with blue milk and muja fruit beside the chair. There was no sign that the room she was in had force-dampeners.

 

_He looks older than my Master does_ , she thought. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, posture relaxed. He had the exact same impressively tall height as her Master, and she could tell from his dark robes and cape that he had the same tastes.

 

“I had hoped to retrieve you sooner, but… there were matters that needed to be dealt with.”

 

It almost sounded like an apology.

 

Komari threw out her arm and dug her fingers into the mattress and coverlet. She used that to haul herself back onto the mattress, despite herself. All the while she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the man across from her. He looked fond, and that made Komari supremely uncomfortable. She searched her mind for her Master’s words, and she found her mind was about as usable as her body. Stay calm, Komari. Keep your head, he’d said. Try to figure out where you are, a way to escape, and a way to find me. Ingratiate yourself to your captors, if you can, make yourself useful.

 

She felt shaky and weak, but she opened her mouth, “Where are we? Who are you?”

 

“We are on a ship headed for Serenno, and I am your Master.”

 

_Kriff no._

 

“There, I will instruct you in the ways of the Dark Side.” His voice was firm, “You will be my Apprentice.”

 

Komari felt panic begin to choke her, and her anxiety began to consume her faster than she could release it into the Force. She felt the Force press against her, and she felt a split second of relief before it dug into to her like the claws of a rancor. Bile began to rise in the back of her throat, and she was grateful that she had not eaten. A connection began to establish itself between her and the Sith; the bond felt like a dagger in her chest, a violating pressure that cut into her and revealed her inner workings to her attacker. She could feel him, a rolling well of infinite Chaos that had condensed itself into the shape of a man. 

 

“You have nothing to fear in the Dark Side, Komari,” she heard as she passed once again into unconsciousness. “It is nothing that you cannot handle."

 


	2. On the Road to Serrenno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Komari tries; Komari fails. Dooku gets some news.

The next few days passed in a slow blur of both fear and hope, in which Komari oscillated violently between the two. She reminded herself that there were thousands of Jedi that would know to look for her and that Serreno was not an empty planet, and she could find someone, somewhere that she could call for help. Then she would recall her last mission with her Master, the Jedi policy on attachment, the Council’s feelings toward her, and the bond she had been forced into with the Sith. The bond felt like a constant pressure on her head and upper back, like the heavy blankets she and her Master had used on one of the Kaleesh worlds. Her bond with her Master was still blocked, drowned out by the maelstrom of the Dark Side. Most of all, she stewed over the form the Sith Lord had taken. She hypothesized that it had invaded her mind in the same way it was hiding her from her Master and was showing himself as him for its own purposes. She banished thoughts of the legends of shapechangers her crechemaster had told her and felt an intense guilt for her failure to control herself, which only compounded her failure.

 

While she did not avoid the emotional rollercoaster like her Master would have expected her to, she did manage to focus on what she could do, which was glean what she could from her surroundings (minimal: she was on a smallish ship with a recent-model hyperdrive and while the extent their journey was taking did line up with going to Serreno, she wasn’t inclined to listen to a Sith) and drink water, work up a sweat, and apply the Force to purge the remainder of the drug from her system. 

 

While her access to the Force had earlier only been restricted by the drug, she now felt the Sith’s eyes on her, and it was able to reach out through their bond and touch her in ways her Master had never even thought to dream of. When she’d felt the drug was sufficiently cleared from her body, she’d attempted to destroy the door, and she’d felt an overwhelming wave of dizziness forced upon her and had been unable to stand for several hours. She knew better than to try again. 

 

During the voyage, she dutifully covered every inch of her spare room, which had only the the bed, a mattress on a metal frame, every piece of which was welded to itself and the floor, the table, which was small and light, and the oval light on the wall that Komari had debated over trying to break for a weapon, then decided that she needed to see, and that any attack that was too premeditated would be sensed by the Sith. She did find a small fresher,  _ thank Force _ , which came in handy with the excess amount of water she was drinking. Her attempts to deconstruct the fresher to get into the wall were unsuccessful, largely due to the Sith sensing her change in thought every time she had an idea. 

 

She made only one attempt that was met with any degree of success. The Sith fed her on a regular schedule, which was not what she expected of someone who’d said they were going to break her from the Light and make her into an abomination of the Force, which in and of itself was ridiculous, she’d die before that happened like any good Padawan. Each time it brought her food, the door would swoosh open and he’d place the food, most of which was surprisingly, blissfully fresh, in flimsy plates on the table. In the deepest recesses of her mind, she felt an idea begin to form, which she crushed, and then felt a small amount of pride that she also crushed. 

 

It was the first meal after a sleep cycle, and Komari was prepared: her thoughts were anxious and she was mentally sitting in her usual position on the bed, all as the Sith would expect. In reality, she was standing, with her weapon in her hands.

 

The door opened.

 

Komari rushed through it, the mattress in front of her and blocking her vision, and she heard glasses shatter, accompanied by the clatter of silverware and plates. She was met with a resistance that was distinctly person-shaped, and she managed to press it about two feet back before the Force threw her into the wall behind her. She fell down face-forward onto the mattress, her legs half on the metal frame so her body was slanted awkwardly downward.

She’d hoped to slam him into the opposite wall, but,  _ oh, well _ , she thought giddily and prepared herself for whatever sick punishment the Sith deemed appropriate. 

 

She rolled off the mattress and onto her feet.

 

They stood there for a moment, her panting slightly, him slathered with wet breakfast grain. A bit of blue milk dripped from his beard.

 

“Most impressive,” it said, her Master’s voice and mannerisms grating her nerves. It walked out of the room without taking his eyes off her. Swoosh, the doors closed. 

  
  


\-------

  
  


He’d felt his Padawan’s sharp confusion before he heard the screaming; he was slow to react, and he only made it several steps before her mind slammed into his like a crushing wave. She dragged his vision along their connection, and he saw with her eyes a monster. 

As quickly as her vision had come, it left him, and he flew into the back office, where he saw Miss Roja, alone, with a military-grade blaster in hand. Shards of glass from the wall-window were on the floor, and he peered out the window to see an orange-gray speeder with mid-level plates flying off into the night.

 

He’d moved swiftly, but not swiftly enough. His Padawan was occluded from his vision, but a call to the temple had put an alert out for the make, model, and tags of the speeder. Another call and an appropriated speeder later he was standing before the counsel. 

 

He stood tall and proud and trustworthy before them and said, “A Sith Lord took my Padawan.”

 

They stared back at him, some shaking the vestiges of sleep from their eyes as he recounted the events of the night. 

 

Yoda spoke first, “Think a Sith Lord took your Padawan, you do?”

 

“Yes, Master. Before he managed conceal our bond, she sent me a glimpse of him, I saw his eyes with hers,” he said as they stared at him, all shocked, some amused. His height brought him tall above them, but somehow he never felt anything more than a Padawan in front of them, being scolded by his Master.

 

Yoda’s eyes twinkled, “Many species, there are, with yellow eyes. See more of him, did you?”

 

He saw them writing him off with shared glances and half smiles, “No, Master, but I felt what she felt. I know what she saw.”

 

“Watch yourself, Master Dooku,” Master Tyvokka said, “You have a fine padawan, but do not forget the dangers of attachment.”

 

“The fact remains that I cannot sense my Padawan, and I did not sense the presence of the Sith Lord in the force at all.”

 

Master T’un spoke softly and clearly, “There are many ways for the more unsavory creatures of the galaxy to hide from us, that does not indicate that a power that was wiped out a millennium ago has returned.”

 

Yan took a deep breath, “As I said, I connected with my Padawan before I was she was gone entirely, I know what she sensed, what she saw.”

 

Master Tyvokka sighed, “And are we, the Council, supposed to believe the second-hand testimony of a Padawan?”

 

“She reached out and showed me what she saw with her own two eyes!” Yan stopped himself from continuing, taking a deep breath in an attempt at recentering himself.

 

“Master Dooku,” Yoda said, “Under any other circumstances, free to find your Padawan, you would be, more pressing matters-”

Yan felt his heartbeat stutter and stop.

 

“-to attend to, we have. Stolen, many holocrons have been, a mere few hours ago. Lucky, we are, to have a Jedi as conscientious as Archivist Nu, that the theft was noticed so quickly, hmmm? Trained her well, you have. Return to us in her own time, your Padawan will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I'm down three (wisdom) teeth as of yesterday, but I'm alive!

**Author's Note:**

> Wooo! I done it! It's done! There is a chapter! The next one will be up soon. :)


End file.
